


You know you love him

by TheRomanticSadist



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Adam's POV, Bonding, Child Abuse, First Kiss, Fluff, Friendship, Implied Child Abuse, M/M, POV Adam Parrish, POV Second Person, Post-Blue Lily Lily Blue, Pre-The Raven Boys, Pre-The Raven King, The Barns, post-BLLB, pre-TRB, teen only because there's minor swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 05:57:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5279324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRomanticSadist/pseuds/TheRomanticSadist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You know you’re nothing like him.</p><p>Ronan is a glare and a snarl and you are a glance and a smirk. Ronan is a sharp warning and a powerful punch and you are a tired frown and a mess of marks. Ronan Lynch is a boy, brought up rich in love and money, who evolved into who he is now: a reckless asshole who prefers blunt truths over sweet lies. You, Adam Parrish, are an isolated boy, brought up in dust and poverty. No one knows who you are – you aren’t established and you have no reputation.</p><p>You think you could never get along.</p><p>--<br/>Adam's POV of how his and Ronan's relationship develops. Starts from before TRB, and ends after the events of BLLB.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You know you love him

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gaewaren (shadowhunterxhunter)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowhunterxhunter/gifts).



> Thank you to [ Kim ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rryoutah) for being my beta on this!
> 
> A birthday fic both for myself and [ gaewaren ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowhunterxhunter) because we apparently share the exact same birthday!
> 
> So, this is my first fanfiction in about 5 years, and my first time writing TRC fanfiction and first time doing a second person POV in present tense! Also, I did this in 2 days, I'm quite impressed with me :')
> 
> This is all in Adam's POV, and most the other characters are mentioned, barring Gansey and Ronan. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this!

You know you’re nothing like him.

Ronan is a glare and a snarl and you are a glance and a smirk. Ronan is a sharp warning and a powerful punch and you are a tired frown and a mess of marks. Ronan Lynch is a boy, brought up rich in love and money, who evolved into who he is now: a reckless asshole who prefers blunt truths over sweet lies. You, Adam Parrish, are an isolated boy, brought up in dust and poverty. No one knows who you are – you aren’t established and you have no reputation.

You think you could never get along.

* * *

You know you despise him when you officially meet.

Richard Campbell Gansey III – no, just Gansey, you correct yourself – introduces you to him at lunch. You’ve seen Ronan in your Latin class before, and occasionally around the school. But this is the first time that Ronan Lynch was close enough to be studied. The first thing you think about is why someone like Ronan would even bother coming to someplace as prestigious as Aglionby Academy. His shirt is untucked, the tie isn’t done properly and by the looks of it, there isn’t much in his bag either. Blue eyes, clear as the sky above them, study your face. You stare right back, matching his gaze and you prepare yourself for a fight. You know that look – it screams danger.

Gansey steps in before either of you speak. “Ronan!” He exclaims and gives his friend a smile. You realise instantly it’s different from the one he uses in class or the one he uses when he sees a classmate in the hall. The smile he gives Ronan is so pure you expect the sun to shine down on him. “This is the guy I texted you about.” Ronan raises an eyebrow at Gansey and something tells you that Ronan hasn’t checked his phone. Gansey shakes his head and continues. “He helped me fix the Pig this morning and then I told him about Glendower.” It’s small, but a flash of anger, or perhaps annoyance, darkens Ronan’s eyes. If Gansey noticed it, he ignored it. You certainly didn’t though. Gansey gently bumps your shoulder with his own. “Being top of the class must make you an inquisitive person, does it not, Parrish? Except for Latin of course, that’s all yours, Lynch.” He adds with good humour and you can’t help but smile.

“Adam.” You glance at Gansey. “Adam is fine.” He might like to use his surname, but you want to distance yourself from your father. In Aglionby, you can at least pretend to be your own person for a few hours. You flatten your accent and you stand a little straighter, chin tipped up a bit; enough to be confident, but not too much so it comes off as arrogance. First impressions are important.

Something’s wrong.

Ronan exhales sharply from his nose and turns his head to the side – apparently something is more interesting than you (you’re not surprised). Out of the corner of your eye, you see Gansey’s smile falter slightly but your own focus has been stolen by the black ink on Ronan’s neck.

It’s obviously a tattoo, but there’s no way in telling what it’s of, nor how big it is. You can see the top of it only. Sharp swirls stretch along pale skin and the pointed ends threaten anyone who come to close. You want to ask about it, but figure that it might be personal.

“Oh!” Gansey grins, his gaze following yours. “Ronan here recently got that tattoo. I was against the principle of annoying Declan, but it’s really a magnificent piece of work.” Could Gansey be referring to Declan Lynch? Of course – you don’t think there’s another Declan Lynch in this town. You remember that Declan Lynch hadn’t seemed as aggressive as Ronan. He seemed approachable. Before you’re able to get a proper look to see if there’s anything similar in their face, Ronan finally speaks up.

“It’s rude to stare, runt.”

It shouldn’t hurt as much as it does. You’re used to all sorts of abuse, but it still doesn’t give him any right. Fire burns in your stomach and you scowl. “Runt?” You forget to hide your accent. Ronan tenses and clenches his jaw. Slowly, he smirks.

“Got a problem, _Parrish_?” He hisses, stepping into your personal space. Gasoline fills your nostrils but you don’t back down. You know what to be afraid of, and Ronan isn’t it.

You hiss right back. “Many concerning you.”

The bell shrieks before the fight starts but it’s Gansey who sighs in relief. Ronan’s still glaring, scrutinising you. Your eyes narrow.

You don’t understand why Ronan Lynch would be likeable.

(But you also don’t understand why you’re likeable, especially to someone like Gansey).

You decide then that if you can’t get him to like you, you’ll at least get him to respect you.

You think you will always be arguing with Ronan Lynch.

* * *

You know you like him when he hands you notes the day after you missed school.

Gansey isn’t there yet. He’s talking to some physics teacher – probably about ley lines and their energy – and had asked you both to wait for him as he wouldn’t be long. But leaning on a wall next to Ronan Lynch can be tense. It’s been several months now, and you think you’ve gained his respect. Whether he likes you or not still remains a well-kept secret. You feel the accusing stare from him. Feel it zoning in on your left cheek. Paranoia creeps and claws its way into you. The make-up might have been cheap but you know it covers up well enough.

“Parrish.” His voice almost makes you jump and you think he’s about to tell you to move and give him some space. Instead, he lets the strap of his bag slide down his shoulder. You notice his muscles are taut beneath the wrinkled white shirt. Ronan’s voice is casual as he unzips his bag. “You missed Latin yesterday.”

You give a half shrug and try not to chew your lip. “I did.” Your relationship with Ronan Lynch is still messy, and almost always end in arguments. Especially if Gansey or Noah aren’t there to pacify the both of you. But you unofficially make up by the next day without fail. You expect Ronan to push for an explanation, but he doesn’t.

He says your name again, “ _Adam,_ ” and you blink, realising he’s holding something. “You’ll need these notes. Keep them.” Ronan hands you a few folded sheets. The moment your fingers brush against his, his hand flinches back and he drops his grip on the papers. They fall perfectly into your hands.

Unfolding the notes, you expect them to be a photocopy of Gansey’s perfectly written ones. You can’t hold back your surprise when you find the writing to be unrecognisable. It’s a slanted scrawl, but the words are legible. Small black birds with sharp talons and hungry beaks litter the margin, but none of them get in the way of the important declensions table at the top. There are more annotations than your own, especially surrounding deponent verbs and how to conjugate them. This is something you haven’t learnt in Aglionby, something they covered earlier and you’ve desperately been trying to make sense of. The writing is neater when you need it to be, and one read over them already makes the logic in the grammar apparent. You realise something. It’s not a photocopy.

This is Ronan Lynch’s own work.

You don’t ask him to confirm – you’ll make it awkward. Glancing up from the notes, Ronan’s gaze catches your own and though you can’t read him, (yet, you think you will soon) you know sincerity when you see it. The corner of your mouth twitches up slightly. You relax.

As you fold away the notes and slip it into your bag, you say, “Thank you.” Ronan grunts and stands up straight, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. Gansey calls your names and Ronan leads the way towards your friend. Ronan bumps against Gansey and he laughs. Behind them, you smile and follow. Gansey offers a fist to you, and you knock against it gently with your own. Gansey leads the way to his car, but you fall in line with Ronan, catching him glancing away from you just as you look at him.

You think that Ronan Lynch isn’t always an asshole.

You think maybe, you could be friends.

* * *

You know you trust him when he drops you off without saying a word. 

Actually, Ronan does say a word. Many, in fact. None of them, however, are related to the shitty area you live in, nor the distance from the school which he must have noticed by now. No, Ronan rants about anything else but that. He tells you about his tennis match, about how he and Noah failed to bake cookies (you snort at the mental image, and you think you see Ronan smirk), about how only two nights ago, he slaughtered Kavinsky and his dogs in one race. Your bones are too heavy and your head is too fuzzy to properly voice your opinion on that guy. You’ll never understand the appeal of being within five metres of the bastard.

The talk slows as does the car. Ronan doesn’t stop directly at your double-wide, but on the dirt path near it. You let out a shaky breath as you watch Ronan glance around, but his expression doesn’t change. It takes you a moment to realise that it really was just a glance – Ronan is looking at you. 

His gaze isn’t meeting yours, but rather lowered slightly. Your lip. You know it’s still healing, but it definitely looks better than last night.

You try to smile. “It’s rude to stare, asshole.” Ronan ignores the insult. His voice is softer than you expected it to be.

“Will you tell me now?” he asks. Gansey was the one to ask you earlier, and Ronan had asked silently with a look in Latin which you dismissed. You won’t lie to him, you know that already. Ronan despises a lot of things – a few months ago, he despised you too – but the one thing Ronan loathed was a lie. But you’ve learnt you don’t have to lie to avoid the truth. There are ways around that.

You pick your bag up from the floor in front of you. “My parents haven’t kissed me goodnight for a long while, Lynch.” It’s all you leave him with before climbing out of the car. A warm breeze messes up your dusty hair. You begin to walk towards your home (‘It isn’t a home,’ you remind yourself). To look up is a mistake, as you now know your father is sitting at the table in the dining room. There are bottles there too. You can’t tell how many are empty.

“Adam.”

Ronan’s voice is sharp again, and you curl your right hand tightly into a fist. Nails dig into your palm and you clench your teeth. Is he going to make a remark now and speed off, leaving you in the dirt where you belong? No, Ronan might insult you from time to time, but he isn’t cruel like that. At least, you like to think that. He isn’t about to go whisper behind his back. Ronan Lynch isn’t a hypocrite, you tell yourself. “What?” You look over your shoulder.

Ronan’s face is visible through the window and he leans forward a bit. He’s frowning, and you don’t know what to make of it. “I’m training this weekend. You should come along.”

“Tennis?” You say with a raised eyebrow. You know Ronan’s good, you’ve seen him play, but you’ve never bothered with it. You don’t have the time, even if you wanted to. You’re about to deny him when he cuts in.

“Boxing.”

Oh.

It’s almost mechanical, how you think you’ll react. It’s going to play out like this: you’re going to storm back to the car, you’re going to cross your arms and lean in through the open window. Ronan won’t flinch and you’ll curse him because you are _no one’s_ charity case and just because you let Gansey get you that messenger bag doesn’t mean Ronan needs to give you anything. When you get out of here, it will be on your own accord, and not anyone else’s. 

But you stay still. Your arms relax and Ronan himself lets out a breath. You can’t waste your energy by starting a fight with Ronan when what you really need to do is prepare for the one waiting for you inside. So you settle for a scowl and turn away, your back facing him. Will Ronan insist like Gansey did?

You start walking.

As you do, the BMW’s engine sings its goodbye and Ronan’s speeding away.

That night, when the only sounds left is the dripping of your blood in the bathroom, you let yourself feel. Tears spill down your bruised cheeks, over the golden freckles on your face and mix with the blood in the sink. You shouldn’t be crying… You’ve had worse. But the stinging in your nose shoots to your head and you can’t think, you just can’t! You hate it here, but you can’t go anywhere else. Not on your terms. Letting go of your nose, you notice it’s stopped bleeding and you check it in the mirror. It doesn’t look broken, luckily, but you’re going to have to cover that up tomorrow. Maybe letting yourself have a painkiller or two would be acceptable tonight. You wash up quickly and quietly, escaping to your room before anyone else sees you.

Later when you lie in bed, you wonder if you should accept Ronan’s offer to teach you how to fight.

Your think your pride would never let you.

* * *

You know you understand him when he brings you to The Barns.

At least it’s a Friday. It seems like after everything that’s happened in the caves, coming back to The Barns to try wake the animals again might just be possible. You’ve both done it together once before. Something’s changed in both of you. Maybe it’ll work this time.

You don’t have to go to the garage until the afternoon tomorrow, but you need to study in the morning. The search for Glendower never hindered your studies before, and you weren’t about to let it start to now. But when Ronan Lynch turns up at your door near midnight, you go with him without question. He’s changed out of the navy sweater, swapping it instead for his dark leather jacket. You think it makes him look darker than he really is, older too. It fits him well, you can’t help but notice.

The Barns is just outside of Henrietta and if the sky wasn’t clear enough there, the darkness here brought out the stars even more. You glance up and a million silver stars wink down at you. You smile.

It’s been three days since Malory flew back. Blue has been with her family and Gansey’s buried himself in research again. You’ve helped a few times, but for now, your mind is calm. The end of the week always took its toll on you, and if it weren’t for your shift at the factory earlier, you might have been able to sneak in some rest.

Maybe it’s the warmth blasting through the BMW, or the quiet crackling of the radio as you lose signal, or even Ronan’s soft humming that begins to lull you to sleep. Your eyes flutter shut, and when you inhale, you smell mist and moss. You let yourself relax into your seat – you’ll be at The Barns soon. Ronan clicks the radio off, and now the engine joins in Ronan’s humming. It’s vaguely familiar and if you thought about it more, you’re sure to know why you know it. There’s something melodic, mysterious and magical about Ronan’s song. About Ronan himself.

Just before you lose consciousness, you recognise it to be a rendition of the murder squash song.

X~X~X 

Ronan’s hand is on your shoulder, gently shaking you awake. You start and he squeezes your shoulder. Rubbing at your eyes, Ronan takes his hand off your shoulder and hands something to you.

“Parrish, enough with the nap time. We’re here.”

You blink and take the travel mug from Ronan. You twist the lid, your fingers straining to open it at first; did Ronan have to tighten it that much? It’s too dark to see what’s in there. You sniff, then smirk and turn to him. “Is this tea?”

“Is this tea?” Ronan mimics, his version of your accent absolutely appalling. “Of-fucking-course it’s tea!” he huffs. “Now drink up. We don’t want your skinny ass freezing off as soon as you walk out of this car.”

You snort, despite yourself, and sip at it. It’s peppermint, or just mint. You’re not sure, but it smells nice and after a few more sips, you identify that Ronan had put some honey in there too. Or maybe he dreamt all of it, you’re not sure now. After you finish, you put the lid back on and lick your lips. Ronan’s waiting for you and you nod at his door. “Let’s go then.”

Ronan practically shoots out of the car.

You know he doesn’t like the cold and wants to get indoors quickly, but even that was extreme. You brace yourself for the chill. Even in your jacket, you shudder when the wind attacks. One downside of being in such an open area is the fact there is nothing you saving you from the force of nature. It’s pure and raw and unstoppable.

You think it’s fitting for Ronan Lynch.

As he makes his way to the large farmhouse itself, you jog to catch up to him. At first, you think you should grab his arm to stop him. Your hand reaches out, and at the last second, you change your mind. Ronan’s hand is warmer than your own, naturally, and he stops but doesn’t pull away. Your fingers are just touching. The warmth radiating from Ronan’s skin tempts you to take his hand in your own. You don’t.

“Parrish?”

“It’s freezing out here, and I bet it’s cold in there.” You nod towards the farmhouse. “If we’re here to wake them, we need blankets. Besides,” you hold up the travel mug. “I need to clean this.”

Ronan rolls his eyes. “We have a damn dishwasher.”

“Does it work?”

Ronan is about to answer but stops himself. Half the appliances in his home are dreamt up and you’re all still discovering what ones need actual electricity and which ones are dream items. Either way, you were going to use the sink.

Once inside the Barns, Ronan turns on the side lights. A warm yellow glow fills the living room. Wires and game consoles litter the floor, books are piled on the coffee table and paintings of lush landscapes decorate the walls. This is more of a home than you could ever have.

Ronan’s already making his way towards the stairs when you call to him. He growls at you. “What is it _now,_ Parrish?”

“Why are we here?”

The ferocity is lost and Ronan’s reply is casual. “To wake them up.”

“We’ve tried this before.”

“ _We_ woke them in the cave. We can do it here. We have to!” Ronan’s desperate and determined. There’s one factor which is missing though – Gansey. You both know it, but Ronan is not a person to give up. One look is what you give to tell him that perhaps you should have brought everyone else. “We can do it, Adam.” Ronan says aloud. His voice resonates in the empty room, warming it with hope. Since Ronan Lynch does not lie, you’re inclined to believe him. “Besides, aren’t you a magician?” he teases before disappearing to get some blankets for you.

You shrug your jacket off and leave it on the back of the red armchair. There was no harm in trying tonight, and even the smallest of shifts would be good enough. You’d try harder tonight, for him. Cabeswater’s pulse is your own – steady and strong. Since bringing Maura and Artemus back, you can tell there’s been a surge of power. You still don’t know exactly what happened down in the caves, and neither Blue nor Ronan have gone into any detail.

The kitchen is large, with an island in the middle. You flick the main light on, squinting as it attacks your eyes. Shaking your head, you make your way to the sink and flick the tap up. It takes a while, but even the cold water is warm against your skin. Soon, it’s hot enough for you to wash the travel mug. The rushing of the water is all you hear.

You’ve just placed the mug upside-down on the drainer and dried your hands when a palm clamps down on your left shoulder. “Parrish?” You jump, shoulders tense and turn around.

Ronan’s right hand is still on your left shoulder. Ronan doesn’t step away. Ronan Lynch is too close to you.

You blink once and realise the base of your back is pressed up against the counter. You had spun around so quickly that Ronan hadn’t had the time to back away. Instead, he stays where he was a second ago and stares at you. Clearer than the ponds in Cabeswater, Ronan’s eyes lock with your own and you feel the pulse of the ley line getting stronger. No… you realise that’s your heartbeat.

You know now why Ronan’s presence had surprised you – he had approached from your left side, your deaf side and he had been quiet. You hadn’t expected him to come looking for you, rather he would just be waiting. But you were wrong.

You realise you’ve been wrong about a lot of things concerning Ronan Lynch, especially in the past. It wasn’t that he lied to you, it was that he hid so much of himself away that you were left with assumption. You thought he was arrogant, but you know he’s just proud. You thought he was reckless and apathetic, but you know he cares with all his heart. You thought he hated you, and you know he doesn’t.

Neither of you move.

You don’t know how long you’ve been staring, but it’s hard not to. There aren’t many chances to stare at Ronan, the magical, wondrous creature you’ve learnt about. He’s only a little taller than you now, so you must have grown in the past year. Still, you’re not eye-to-eye just yet. The kitchen light casts a shadow on one side of his face, and you can clearly see the stubble growing on his face. His cheekbones are sharp and defined and when your gaze moves higher, you notice he’s not staring directly at you anymore. Ronan’s eyes are cast down a little, eyelashes dark and curled, half hiding his eyes.

He’s staring at your lips.

Your pulse (not Cabeswater, you know that now) is going crazy. Heat rises to your face, spreading all the way to your ears that you forget you were cold just moments before. The air is thick with _something_ so fragile that if either of you move, you might shatter the magic the two of you have created.

You exhale slowly through your mouth, and the breath caresses Ronan’s lips. This close to him, you can see the slightest shudder. Ronan, of course, is the one who takes the fall. Smooth fingers are soon on your neck. Ronan has slid his hand from your shoulder to your neck, to your jaw. His thumb rests gently on your cheek and you relax. You let him. Ronan Lynch isn’t dangerous, not to you. His hand is warm, surprisingly soft and you think you recognise the scent of mist and moss. You wonder, with a small smile, if that’s the only fragrance that Ronan knows how to manifest right now.

Ronan’s watching closely and you know that he smiles when you do. It’s only a small twitch at the corner of his lips, but it’s there. Your bodies are close and you raise your head a little. There’s no more running away from this, no more ignoring whatever you two have. You can see the questions in Ronan’s eyes, the anxiety and the care. You think he can see the same in your own eyes. The two of you don’t always need words.

How long do you stay like this, in Ronan’s hold? You long does Ronan stay in your gaze? You hear his steady breathing mix with your own. He swallows, and a pink tint paints itself on his cheeks. “Can I—?” Instead of replying, you reach down with your right hand and grab Ronan’s left. This time, your action is more confident and you let your fingers slide between the spaces of Ronan’s. You squeeze his hand, ignoring the fact both of your palms are slightly sweaty.

Ronan is fierce and his eyes glow with hunger and starvation for you. For a brief moment, he flicks them down to your lips, tilts his head and kisses you.

You’re against the counter, Ronan’s body presses into yours. You tense up at first and your cheeks flush, but Ronan returns your earlier gesture and squeezes your hand. Ronan’s eyes are closed, his eyelashes brushing against his cheek and warm lips are gentle on yours. Ronan’s fingers on your jaw press gently into your skin, easing your head up just a little more and you tilt your head slightly. In return, you use your free hand and reach up to grab the front of Ronan’s leather jacket, pulling him even closer. It’s messy and awkward at first, and your noses bump into each other, but neither of you care. There’s too much that had been left unspoken before that’s spilling out now, something so phenomenal and powerful that words could never capture what you want to show.

Ronan sighs your name into your mouth. It’s warm and sweet. It’s like a prayer he’s relied on his whole life. Ronan whispers your name again and captures your lips, but you note they’re still shaking. You think you’re shaking too, but only because you want more. By accident, your teeth clack together and you break the kiss to snigger at the incident.

Unfortunately, Ronan takes this the wrong way. He jumps away from you, arms around himself and staring at you like you’ve become one of his night horrors.

Your heartbeat is still loud and fast. You pant, watching Ronan as he’s watching you.

It’s like you’ve burned him. Like you’ve hurt him. Ronan isn’t the dangerous one, it’s you! Gansey, you remember, once told you about how he was scared that someone would get cut on Ronan’s sharp edges and get burnt when he explodes, but he was wrong. Ronan’s the one who’s gotten hurt. You see the evident pain, the anxiety but there’s no shame and you’re glad for that.

“A-Adam,” he stammers out. You raise a hand, the one which was holding Ronan’s a moment ago, and touch your lips. “Adam, shit, I’m sorry, I know you didn’t say but I— fuck, please don’t be— damn it, I—”

As Ronan stutters over his words, you stare. You watch his lips as they move unsurely, trying to form the right words to apologise. He doesn’t need to apologise, you want to say but you’re speechless. Occasionally, Ronan’s tongue darts out to lick at his lips.

“Ronan.” You don’t hide your accent, you know he likes it. You know he likes _you_. Ronan stops ranting and stares like a deer caught in the headlights. You take the opportunity and step forward and take his left hand in your right. Your fingers intertwine with his and Ronan’s blush darkens. You think yours does too. At least, you know, your heart is louder and stronger. This is your choice now, and Ronan is letting you have it. You know you have his trust; you wonder if one day you’ll have his heart.

Your free hand is raised to slide to the back of Ronan’s neck. Your palm rests just at the top of his tattoo. He shivers at the touch and closes his eyes. “Ronan,” you say again. You bring him down a little and he bows his head; you press your forehead against his and whisper, “Look at me.” He listens and opens his eyes.

You think you want to kiss him again.

So you do.

* * *

You know you love him when see him smile.

Ronan Lynch is a crash of thunder, a wall of muscles, a sharp and dangerous viper. You know he fights, you know he drinks, you know he races and you know he cares. Ronan is a lot more than he cares to show, and you want to learn all about this beautiful, brilliant boy.

And one morning, you see him sitting at the edge of your bed (‘ _Our bed by now’_ you think) with the sunlight stretched across his tattoo. He doesn’t know you’re awake yet. You hardly move. For a moment, you wonder if you’re the one who’s dreamt a fantasy but Ronan tenses and glances over his shoulder. A smirk makes its way to Ronan’s lips. You glance to your window and see Chainsaw perched there. She caws at Ronan and flies to land near your head. Like her owner, she has care in her touch when she uses her beak to push against your hair. You laugh through your nose and bury your head back into the pillow. It’s one of those rare days where you’re allowed to stay in bed.

Chainsaw hops back onto your window ledge and Ronan stands to open the window for her. She doesn’t leave, but rather settles.

Ronan climbs back into bed. The duvet lifts and a rush of cool air sneaks into the sheets, accompanied by Ronan. Shuddering, you curse him quietly for doing so and he only laughs. You don’t want to miss it, so you turn your head and he’s there.

“Morning, Adam.” Ronan’s smile is a glorious miracle. The sun avoids his eyes, but shines on his exposed shoulder, basking him in gold. A strong arm wraps around your waist and pulls you closer. Soft lips are pressed to your messy hair, they kiss the freckles scattered on your nose and finally, finally your heart jumps in your chest when Ronan kisses you. He’s yours as you are his. You may live above a church but there is nothing more angelic than him.

You never thought you’d call Ronan Lynch angelic.

You break the kiss first, muttering, “I have morning breath, Ronan!” in a raspy voice. Ronan snickers and purposely kisses you again, smacking his lips to exaggerate it and even you laugh at the action. He’s wonderful, truly with a loyal heart and a magical mind.

And he’s still smiling at you. 

That’s when you know he loves you too.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it! If you did and you're on tumblr, could you [ reblog it maybe? ](http://ravenboyparrish.tumblr.com/post/133893779247) Find me[ there! ](http://ravenboyparrish.tumblr.com/)  
> Any constructive criticism is welcome, especially on characterisation!
> 
> Edit: 23/7/16 - Hi! Could you also check out [ Pynch week ](http://pynchweek.tumblr.com/) on tumblr since I'm co-hosting it (and will probably participate in it too)! It would be great if you could spread the word and I hope to see some of you taking part as well! ♥ Thanks!


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